Reflections
by TracyT
Summary: James Watson reflects on his life and his connection to Will.


Title: "Reflections" A Sanctuary story.

Author: TracyT

Spoilers: "Revelations, Parts I and II"

Pairing: James Watson/Will's mother

Rating: PG

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Archive: Yes, please!

Summary: James reflects on his past and his connection to Will.

Author's note: I have been watching some Sanctuary videos on You Tube, and they got me inspired to write again. I have read some speculation that James Watson might be Will's father, so I thought I'd do a story about that. Watson is one of my favorite characters, and he went too soon, IMHO. I guess he'll have to live on in fanfic. I never heard a name for Will's mother so I have called her Kathryn.

Disclaimer: Sanctuary and its characters do not belong to me. No profit will ever be made on this. It was a labor of love.

*****

Watson stayed with his brandy long after Will and John had gone off to their respective beds. His machine hummed and clicked away softly, doing its job at keeping him alive. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Helen's heels on the stone floor, heralding her approach.

She smiled as she entered the room. "James. I didn't know you were still up and about. More brandy?" She offered as she lifted the lid from the decanter.

"I wouldn't mind a bit more while I let this contraption have its way with me."

Helen huffed a laugh. She filled his glass, then one for herself. "So, what do you think of my new protégé?"

Watson gave her a look.

"Lacking subtlety?" Helen gave him a slightly cheeky look.

Watson grinned. "Since you ask, I like him. Will is…well, he has a very quick mind."

"Yes, he does. Something I think he inherited."

Watson's smile faded. "He's very like Kathryn, isn't he?" Suddenly something in his brandy glass became very interesting.

"Yes, he is, but I wasn't referring to Kathryn."

"I know to whom you were referring."

Helen's voice was soft. "You should have told him you knew his mother."

James was silent for a moment. "To what end?"

"James…"

"Helen, please, let sleeping dogs lie."

"Lie being the operative word." Helen's voice was sharper now.

"It's more of an omission, really." At her look he added, "Helen, honestly, what possible good would it do to start opening old wounds?" When Helen opened her mouth to answer he held up a hand to stop her. "_That _was a rhetorical question. It would do absolutely no good and would only bring the boy more pain. Please, I beg of you, let it go."

He could see Helen's inner struggle. Finally she said. "All right. As you wish. I'm going to bed. Can I help you to your room?"

"No. I'm going to stay here a while longer. I can manage."

After Helen had left, he let his mind drift into dangerous waters. Areas he rarely dare let himself go.

He brought to mind the face of Kathryn Zimmerman as she had been when he first met her. Young, beautiful, vibrant.

She had come to him in the summer of 1974. Helen had recommended her to him when he was in need of a new lead assistant at the UK Sanctuary. His former senior assistant, Martin, having decided to retire at the ripe old age of 72.

Helen had met her when Kathryn had been a medical intern at the hospital in New City. She had cared for a patient who had been brought in unconscious. The patient had well-developed telekinetic powers and Kathryn had entered the room to find anything that was not fastened down floating in the air. Far from panicking, Kathryn was fascinated. She had contacted Helen after getting a recommendation from a fellow doctor who had cared for some unusual patients himself.

Helen was so impressed with this self-possessed young woman she had brought her to the Sanctuary and had shown her what _her _patients were like. Kathryn had worked for Helen for about six months when Helen had recommended her for work at the UK Sanctuary.

Kathryn had arrived on a rainy Tuesday afternoon, but one look at her and James had thought she had brought with her the sun. He was later to reflect that he loved her from the first time he laid eyes on her, but at the time he was merely rendered speechless by this glorious creature.

She removed her hat and shook the rain from it, then extended her hand with a smile. He still remembered what she was wearing, light blue blouse, black trench coat, black hat. The black made her eyes all the more blue, and made the gold glint in her hair.

"Dr. Watson." It wasn't a question. "Kathryn Zimmerman. You can call me Kathy."

"Of course." He never called her anything but Kathryn.

To this day he couldn't remember what he said to her at that first meeting, but he clearly remembered what Archie, one of his junior assistants had said to her. Archie, who was young and strong and a fellow American, had come into the room as is he owned the place, beamed at Kathryn and took her hand. "You must be Kathy," he said in a low voice, before kissing her hand. The cheek of the man!

Soon Kathryn had settled in and he found they worked very well together. She had a sharp mind and she was eager to learn about the abnormal world. He was able to discuss matters with her on an equal level and she understood him better than anyone else he could remember, aside from The Five. Their working relations were near perfect, but matters on a personal level were a bit different. At least for him.

In his hundred-odd years he hadn't realized something that really, should have been more obvious. Kathryn brought this to his attention as if a brilliant light had suddenly exposed his situation. He was utterly alone. He had been for a very long time, but his work had consumed his days, easing a void he never expected to be filled. In all the interminable years he had not noticed the lack of companionship in his life. It was as if an unknown wound had not ached until it was suddenly exposed to the air.

He never expected to have anything like what Helen and John had once had. Something he envied slightly over the years but had never begrudged them. After all, it was all the worse for Helen when John had become what he had. Why open one's self up to pain of that caliber?

He had let himself think that his intellectual pursuits were all that mattered to him, and if he were honest with himself, he didn't welcome this new, emotional side. It was unknown territory and it utterly confounded him.

At first he thought it might just be the novelty of having a woman around. There had only been -men here—aside from the cook, Mrs. Perkins-- for a quite some time, and to suddenly feel the feminine influence around the place was refreshing. Suddenly there were flowers in the house, music playing at all hours--or what passed for music now days. Kathryn would occasionally venture into the kitchen, facing Mrs. Perkins' wrath, to make chocolate chip cookies and the smell of baking would waft through the house.

Kathryn even managed to make the ubiquitous dungarees—those trousers all the young people wore like their official uniform--look good. She always wore very feminine attractive tops with them, or instead of the blue jeans, as she called them, she'd wear flowing skirts, something he approved of much more. And she smelled good. She always wore a subtle perfume that he liked very much.

Oh, he berated himself for every sort of besotted, old fool. He knew it was hopeless. He knew he had to keep things on a professional level, and to his pride, he managed to do just that. The time they devoted to work was no problem at all. It was during the times of leisure that were not so good.

He would stand by, valiantly resisting his jealous thoughts, when Archie would accompany her on her walks in the afternoons. Sometimes they would go to dance clubs together. Oh, it was not as if he wanted to go into one of those places where what passed for music was some ruffian screaming into a microphone accompanied by screeching electric guitars and pounding drumbeats, but still, he envied Archie. He, James, would seethe with silent emotion and watch them leave, knowing the impossibility of his being able to do the same with her. The machine could sometimes be his prison, and during the times he was left alone he pondered the wisdom of continuing his existence in it.

He was, however, content to let her find her way, find her own life. She deserved everything a young woman was entitled to, and he would not even attempt to hold her back, painful as it might be for him.

The straw that broke the camel's back was the afternoon Archie showed up with another woman. James was not only outraged on Kathryn's behalf; he was perversely even more outraged that Archie could choose any woman over Kathryn.

When he confronted him on it, Archie had shrugged and said, "I tried, but all she wants to do is talk about you." At James's stunned look he clapped him on the shoulder. "Yep, it's all you, Doc." With a grin he went off to find his lady friend.

Instead of being pleased with this news, James found himself feeling rather horrified. He would not let Kathryn waste her time on some old fool over four times her age. Perhaps Archie was mistaken.

Over the next few days he watched her actions closely. She certainly seemed pleased to see him, and when he did his last treatment of the day, she invariably turned up to keep him company. She'd shuffle in wearing her fluffy, blue robe, curl up in the chair opposite him, and they would chat while the machine went through its cycle. Once it was done, he could briefly be free of the contraption for no more than three hours a night, but it let him sleep more comfortably without having to be a prisoner to it continually, and it allowed him to have a bath. More than once he told her she didn't have to drag herself out of bed to keep him company, but she said she didn't mind and he found he enjoyed her company.

One day, when Archie and his group of friends went out, he found her in the library researching some of the newer arrivals at the Sanctuary.

"Surely you'd rather go out with your friends instead of hanging around here on a beautiful day like this," he remarked quietly.

She looked up and gave him a smile. "Not really. Archie's a nice guy, but he's kind of immature."

"Oh?"

"He can be kind of an ass sometimes."

James tried to ignore the rush of pleasure that statement gave him.

"Oh, not our Archie. Surely not," he murmured dryly. He was rewarded with a cheeky grin. He plucked a grape from the nearby bowl of fruit and popped it into his mouth. "I'm shocked, I tell you, absolutely shocked that you could assess him in such a way."

She raised an eyebrow, the grin still at full force. "Hey, I call them as I see them."

*********

Watson found himself growing more and more concerned that Kathryn was tying herself down to this place, to him. She was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her. He would not condemn her to a life in this place, as much as he longed to keep her here. She had become the light in his life and he would truly grieve when she was gone, but because he cared for her so much. Because he loved her more than anyone he had ever known, he put his own desires aside and only wanted what was best for her.

He called Helen and in fits and starts explained the situation. Of course, Helen felt he should welcome the opportunity to be with someone. They'd all been alone for so long. It hurt him, but he begged Helen to recall Kathryn to the 'states where she could have the life she deserved. It took all his persuasive powers, but Helen finally, reluctantly, relented.

The next morning he'd called Kathryn to his office.

She came in with a smile. He avoided her gaze. "James. You wanted to see me?"

He kept his attention on the papers he was working on. "Yes. I spoke with Helen last night."

Kathryn took the seat opposite the desk. "Oh? How is she? I hope you told her 'hello' for me."

"She's fine. She…she wants you to come back to the U.S. Sanctuary." Before Kathryn could say anything, before she could object, he said, "I told her I would arrange it by the end of the week."

Kathryn was silent for so long, he finally looked up at her. She looked bewildered. "You're sending me away? Why? Have I done something wrong?" She looked on the verge of tears.

"No, not at all, my dear. It's just…Archie and I can handle things here. Helen needs you."

Kathryn stood abruptly. "James, please, I don't want to leave. Don't do this."

She looked so distressed he came around the desk and took her hands. "Kathryn, please, listen to me. I'm sorry this is distressing you, but I have to do what's best for all concerned. After much consideration I have decided that in order for both Sanctuaries to run smoothly you need to go back to the 'states and assist Helen. She has just taken in more Abnormals than usual and she needs the help."

"But James," She reached up as if she were going to put a hand on his face. Dear Lord, if she touched him, if he felt her hand on his skin, his resolve would crumble instantly. He recoiled from her, pulling away and retreating behind his desk.

He steeled himself. He had to say something that would convince her to go. He drew himself up and said coldly, "Fine, you want the truth? My life has always been about my intellectual pursuits. Having a woman around is contrary to that. I must have an environment without illogical distraction." The words burned in his mouth.

Kathryn looked as if she'd been slapped. She stood silently for a moment, biting her lip, and then she rushed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

James felt like a monster. He kept reminding himself that this is what was best for her, but he felt as if he'd done her an unjust injury nonetheless. He dropped down into his chair and stared off into nothing.

*****

The week that followed was torture. He rarely saw Kathryn; she was keeping to her rooms or the chambers below. When he did see her she refused to look at him and answered his questions in monosyllables. She was clearly hurt and angry, and he felt terrible.

The night Kathryn was to leave was the hardest of all. He tormented himself with the thought that he would never see her again, that the light was going out of his life. Looking ahead to the interminable days without her, he found himself wishing for many things. That he had met her when he was her age, before he had taken the vampire blood. Wishing that he had the longevity that Helen, Druitt and Tesla had gained from the blood. That he could be whole and strong, could to offer her the life she deserved.

In his darkest hours, he wished he'd never met her, had been able to continue his life of intellectual pursuit and had never known what pain loving someone could cause. He wished he'd gone the way of Nigel Griffin and had never taken on the mechanical suit in an effort to prolong his life.

Coward that he was, he hid in his office that evening. He even had Mrs. Perkins bring his meal on a tray to him instead of joining the others for supper.

He slipped out of the room just before nine o'clock and went to his rooms. It was time for the last treatment of the day if he were to be able to remove the suit for a few hours and get some rest, but he knew he wouldn't sleep tonight.

An hour later as he was removing the last of the equipment, there was a knock at his door. He paused, knowing who it was and knowing this was going to be the inevitable last conversation. He removed the last strap from the machine, finished buttoning his shirt and called out "Come."

Of course it was Kathryn, without her usual smile. "I just wanted to let you know, I'm all packed. I'll be out of your hair first thing in the morning."

"Kathryn…" She held up a restraining hand.

"No, let me finish. I wanted to thank you for the opportunity you gave me here. I'm sorry things didn't work out. Goodbye." She turned and started out of the room.

She was going this was it. The last words they would say to one another. Suddenly he found he had to stop her.

"Kathryn," He was able to move faster without the suit. As she opened the door to go, he reached over her shoulder and slammed it shut, turning her and crowding her up against the door. They were both breathing heavily. He was inches from her face. "Don't you see? I'm four times your age." His voice was urgent, angry.

Tears in her eyes, she gave a small shake of her head. "I don't care."

"I'm an anachronism, a relic. I can't relate to your world any more than you could relate to mine."

"I don't care." Her voice almost a whisper.

"I'm virtually a cripple. I'd never be able to properly show you how I feel about you."

"I don't care."

"You deserve someone who will give you children, could relate to your life, someone who could grow old with you."

"No. I don't want anyone else."

"I detest most of the modern world. The music, the fashion, the art, most of your life today is foreign to me."

"I don't care."

"Kathryn," his voice shook with intensity. "I have nothing to offer you. In time you'd come to resent me, resent this life, and I couldn't bear it if you hated me."

"James," She rested a hand on his cheek and this time he welcomed her touch. "I could never hate you. If I knew you cared for me I could live on that for the rest of my life."

" God, Kathryn," His voice broke. He rested his forehead against hers. "Don't you see? I care for you more than I've cared for anyone in my long, interminable life. That's why I have to do what's best for you, no matter what I might want."

"James," she breathed into his mouth, and then he was kissing her, deep, intimate kisses that never seemed to end. He heard her voice murmuring, "Don't send me away, please, don't send me away," and it nearly broke him. He held her to him fiercely.

Before he knew it she left his arms and was leading him toward his bed. "Kathryn," he stopped her, distressed. "You know…I can't…"

"Shh," she reached up to put fingers to his lips. "Let me show you I love you."

*******

He awoke in the morning alone in his bed. The main lead to his machine had been reattached to him and was humming away. Kathryn must have done that for him. He couldn't remember sleeping like this for a very long time. He turned his head and found a note lying on her pillow. It said:

"Goodbye, my James. I understand why you need me to leave, but all you have to do is make a phone call and I'll be back faster than you can blink. I will always remember you. Please don't forget me. All my love, your Kathryn."

She was gone. As if he could ever forget her.

He never made that phone call. Despite what he'd said to her, despite their night together, he still thought she needed to live her own life without him tying her down.

******

A year later, Helen called him to tell him Kathryn had given birth to a child, a son. The pain he felt was intense. She'd apparently found someone to father her child fairly soon after leaving him, despite what she'd said. He should be glad for her, but he only felt grief. He didn't want to know about the father, didn't want to know she was married to someone. He mumbled some idiotic words and ended the phone call as quickly as possible. He'd wanted what was best for her, but knowing she'd moved on still broke his heart.

He carried on is work at the UK Sanctuary, but he still thought of Kathryn from time to time. He received a card from her one day with a picture of her holding a toddler on her lap. A toddler with curly blonde hair and dimples. The boy looked amazingly like his mother. It hurt too much to see, so he stuffed it in a drawer and never looked at it again.

*****

Then came the horrible night a few years later. One night during a thunderstorm there was a knock at his door. It was Helen and her manservant. One look at her face and he knew it was bad news. He heard her say something about not being able to tell him by phone, but he was fairly certain he knew what she was going to say.

"Kathryn?" He managed in a hoarse voice. Helen took his hand and, looking grim, nodded.

When she told him how Kathryn had been killed trying to protect her son, the pain nearly finished him. All he could do for several moments was stare into Helen's eyes stupidly.

He had to grit his teeth to keep any kind of composure. He wanted to shout until his lungs burst, he wanted to weep until he could breathe no longer. Instead, vision blurring, he ground out, "The boy?"

"He's fine. Traumatized, but staying with his grandmother. Kathryn saved him, James, she gave her life for him."

He had to drop down into a chair for a moment, trying to gather the tattered bits of his composure together. He looked up to find Helen, her manservant and Archie all watching him anxiously.

"If you'll excuse me." He walked as quickly as he could, hampered by the dammed mechanical suit toward the door. He had to get out of there.

"James," Helen began, but he held up a hand. He made it as quickly as possible to his rooms before he let this destroy him.

*****

That night he actually gave some thought to removing the suit and letting nature have its way with him, but grief so immobilized him he couldn't even manage that. Kathryn was gone forever. He looked at that long, long years ahead without her and could not face the idea.

The next morning he sat at his desk and stared out the window. He hadn't slept and he couldn't face eating anything.

There was a knock at his door. "Whoever it is, go away."

The door opened. Helen. "James, you and I have to talk."

"No, I don't think we do, Helen. Leave me alone."

She gave him a determined look and sat down in the chair opposite his. "No. James, I know you're grieving, and I'm sorry I had to be the messenger, but there's something more you need to know."

He didn't think he could take much more, but he looked at her expectantly.

"Arrangements need to be made for Will, Kathryn's son."

"I thought he was staying with his grandmother."

"Yes, he is, but perhaps he'd be better off with his father."

James couldn't understand why this concerned him. "Well, then he should go to his father. Why wasn't the man with Kathryn when all this happened, anyway? Why wasn't he there to protect her?"

Helen sighed heavily and looked at her hands. "James, about that. Do you remember when I called you to tell you of Will's birth?'

"Yes, I remember." The thought still stung him.

"Well, Kathryn asked that I wait to tell you. The baby was already three months old when I called."

James frowned. "I don't understand."

Helen reached over the desk to put her hand on his. "James, the boy is yours. You are Will's father. His name is William James Zimmerman. Named for her father and you. Kathryn found out she was pregnant shortly after she returned to me."

Watson was thunderstruck. "What? No, Helen, I couldn't possibly father a child."

"Well, in fact you did. Will is indeed yours."

James could only stare at her. "Why? Why didn't she tell me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Kathryn insisted that if you didn't contact her, if you didn't want her, she wouldn't burden you with this. If you'd only kept in touch, James, she might have told you."

My God, he and Kathryn had a child. He couldn't wrap his head around this.

"James, if you wish it, you have the right to the child. He could come live with you. Part of Kathryn could be here."

He found himself being resentful of the boy. He lived because Kathryn had given her life. James knew it was uncharitable of him, but he could not face the child right now so he refused. How could he look into the boy's face each day and see Kathryn shining out of his features? Let Will grow up with his grandmother who would care for him and love him without the bitterness he, James, felt for him.

*****

In the days that followed he found himself turning to an old friend. He dug out the case containing his syringe and his vials of a seven percent solution of cocaine and water. It gave him a welcome respite from the pain.

One day as he was reaching for the case, a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Doc, come on, don't do this.' It was Archie looking concerned. Archie who never took much seriously looked genuinely worried. "I know you're hurting, we all are, but Kathy wouldn't want you to do this, she wouldn't let you slowly kill yourself over her, and I won't let you do it, either."

Watson pulled his arm back sharply. "This is none of your affair. Leave me alone."

Archie gave him a determined look. "Listen, Doc, I won't stand by and watch you do this. A lot of the staff feel the same way. If you won't get a grip we're out of here." When Watson frowned at him, he added. "We mean it, Doc."

Watson left the room without another word, but he never touched that case again.

In the days that followed, Watson turned his focus back on his work and it became his escape from the pain.

Helen sent him a large package of Will's baby pictures, school pictures, report cards, etc. Through the years he at first reluctantly, then more enthusiastically kept up with everything in his son's life, but he was deliberately not a part of it.

Several years after Kathryn's death, Helen had called him to discuss an abnormal case. Out of the blue, she said softly, "Tell me, do you still think of Kathryn?"

A lump formed in his throat that he had to clear away before answering in a rough voice, "Not a day goes by…" That was all he could manage.

"Oh, James…"

"No. I've learned to live with it. It's still painful but it's a part of me now."

*****

Then came the news that Will had become Helen's new protégé. When the opportunity for him to travel to the 'states came, James decided to go immediately. The suit had been showing signs that it would not last much longer, and he wanted this chance to perform this last mission, see Helen again and finally meet Will face to face. He knew he would not return but he would get to meet his son and he could help Helen one last time. He made his peace with it and traveled to the 'states.

*******

Broken. The infernal suit had finally failed. He was glad the others were distracted when the end finally came. In minutes his true age overtook him and the incredible weakness had him sliding to the floor with a gasp. He heard Will call out his name and he and the others rushed to his side. Even Tesla looked concerned. Helen grasped his hand. "My God, what happened?" It was then he had to admit to her that the suit had been failing ever since he got there. "I knew this was a mission from which I would not return."

A gray cloud was invading his field of vision. He had to labor to breathe, but he reached for Will's hand to tell him that they had missed something, that something was not right. As he looked into the eyes of Kathryn's son--their son--he felt a surge of pride for what a magnificent young man he had turned out to be. He could go, knowing Will had the capability to figure this out, he would solve the puzzle. He was so much like Kathryn it almost hurt to look at him.

He turned his head. John had an arm around a weeping Helen. It was just like the old days, before they had all taken the blood, and it did his heart good. He very much wanted Helen to be taken care of, for her to be happy.

His last thought was a small prayer that there was indeed an afterlife. If there was he could see his Kathryn once again and if that were the case he would gladly go just for that chance. As a man of science he had come to believe in a world of fantastic creatures truly existed. After all the wonders he'd found on earth, he had always discounted a spiritual world, but now he wished for it with all his heart and soul.

In a moment, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Then his eyes opened and he was free. Free of the suit, free of the infirmity of old age, free of the hold the vampire blood had on him. He was young and strong and whole. As he looked up he beheld something that nearly overwhelmed him with joy. He cried out "Kathryn!" and walked into her open arms.

Fin


End file.
